


All Paths Are a Maze

by estike



Category: Nobunaga - Takarazuka Revue
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-27 03:57:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17154860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estike/pseuds/estike
Summary: In the past nine years after an attempt on Nobunaga's life, Roltes hasn't made a single mistake. Or at least, he would like to believe so.The bitter comments of his new lord and an unexpected reunion with Organtino leave him no choice but to reconsider.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, I decided to revise and upload all the Nobunaga fanfics I never had the courage to upload before.

It sometimes happens to Roltes that he would make a big mistake.

It _oftentimes_ happens to Roltes that he would make a big mistake.

…

Roltes cannot recall a time when all he did was not, in fact, a massive mistake altogether. He sort of committed himself to a life of continued failure and this was partially blamed on the blood flowing in his veins (massive mistakes run down in his family) and his own general inadequacy.

Surely, this does not mean he was not a smart man. In fact, it was only his emotional intelligence that was lacking. He was easy to see through even the most complicated ploys in less than a heartbeat.

Where his classmates in school needed to take extensive notes in order to revise and understand the topic, he needed nothing but a single look at their words to be able to draw the right conclusions. He liked to tell himself that this is also why he never made any friends. Not for being unpleasant, of course, but for simply being too brilliant.

(Later on in life, he started to admit at least to himself that there was more of being perfectly unpleasant about it than his own intellect.)

When they came to Japan too, no matter that they carefully learned the basics of the language beforehand, Organtino struggled with it for the longest time, even after a year and longer of living there. He was never able to drop his accent fully. On the other hand, it took less than a year for Roltes and the Oda retainers were already praising him: he did not sound like a barbarian at all! Was he to talk without showing his face, they would be fooled, they said.

Now, Roltes understands flattery way too well – but he also understands that he does possess the talent they are talking about.

The only greater talent he has ever had was apparently to make his miserable situation even worse, despite all this potential. But!

He hasn’t made a single mistake in nine years. Even if that only happened because he did not leave any space for himself to commit to a mistake: he simply did not do anything for himself. It was only for the lord Nobunaga. He fought the urge. In all selfishness, he pretended to become selfless so he could stay safe.

When Hideyoshi comes home to him, ahead of his troops and covered in sweat and blood from his face, throughout his blue garments, he snaps at him.

“Ad you? What are you doing here? I thought you decided not to join fights any longer.”

They say he did not sleep for two days. Yanked Mitsuhide’s head off of his cold, dead body and set off straight to Honnō-ji alone on horseback, presenting the traitor to his lord’s spirit among the ashes of the temple. And then, done with his duty, he rode back here.

Soon enough, Nene appears behind them with a troubled expression. She might have heard the news as well. He catches Hideyoshi by the shoulders before he would leave him to go outside and warm some bathwater under live coals.

The water is dyed pink. Roltes thinks that he had injured himself at first, and it is only when he could ascertain that he has no wounds on his body that he realizes that all the blood came from someone else. (Someone else being Mitsuhide, he assumes.)

These nine years they worked together under Nobunaga every now and then – and Roltes always wondered how much Hideyoshi still held a grudge, for seducing him into treachery. For playing with his heart and invoking his ambition early in life, before he would be ready to take on the burden. If it wasn’t for Roltes, he could have had his awakening later. He could have stayed immaculate and loyal in his lord’s eyes, no matter the bold dreams he was warming to his chest.

Hideyoshi stares at his hand - still drenched in blood - for a long while before he would finally dip them too, in the warm water.

“Why are you still here? Roltes?” he asks again. The answer is too hard to say. “Your Jesuit, he escaped from the Capital. I host him and his company in Kiyosu, now. If you were ever wondering. I figured you would go to him first but maybe you do not know where to start looking for him.”

“My lord?”

He has never seen blacker eyes than Hideyoshi’s. The man stares at him for a while, with his mouth half open, his front teeth slightly showing. He is an unlikely warrior. A puny man with a fragile frame and narrow shoulders. Hideyoshi is smaller than any of his comrades. But he endures anything.

He would often tell about his miraculous birth during drunken nights to the other Oda retainers. The blinding ray of light entering the night room the moment he was conceived. It would always start like this. A miracle when I was born… Roltes always understood this story in a different way. A miracle _that_ I was born…

_A miracle that I am alive._

“You never know how long you have before they betray you.”

But it is useless! It was Roltes who had betrayed once already. It was never supposed to be Organtino who betrayed anyway. It isn’t that he would even be capable of doing such things to others.

…

Maybe that is exactly the point he is getting at. Hideyoshi rests his arm at the side of the wooden tub, placing his pointy chin on top. In the otherwise colourless evening, his hands still seem somewhat pinkish.

Hideyoshi betrayed Nobunaga once. Reasonless. Out of the blue. Same as Roltes did to Organtino.

And Nobunaga forgave him. Forgave both of them.

“The lord Nobunaga and I had a bet, you know after you kept going on errands in peripheral provinces each time we had business with the Jesuits. Of when you would finally gather enough courage. He said never.”

It is true. Each time someone was dispatched to have a meeting with the Jesuits, or they came to visit the lord Nobunaga with some new requests, Roltes promptly disappeared. Knowing of the pain on Organtino’s face if they were about to see one another again, he decided they would be better off without each other. (Saying his apologies was a hard thing and Roltes was scared. Scared of admitting defeat - less, than scared of making another mistake. He’s been defeated before an audience before. It doesn’t scare him anymore.)

“What did my lord Hideyoshi say?”

“Reuniting on this plane is easy. If you die and go to your Christian hell, he will surely go to Christian heaven. But knowing you it might not be the end there, you might know of a secret spider’s thread that leads up there.” The live coals are still warming the water, and by now it must have gotten too hot for comfort. “But enough of that. I do not send you anywhere, what you do is none of my concern. If you want rougher persuasion, you must confer with Nene.”

“We cannot always reconcile,” Nene tells him as she pours a generous amount of rice wine into his platter. Hideyoshi is already asleep in the other room, closed off from them by only a single folding screen. If it is true that he had been awake for more than two nights and days straight, Roltes is not surprised.

Yet, it is not common for men just to trust another with leaving them all alone with their wives.

Nene finishes her thought.

“But we can always say our farewells nevertheless.” Roltes stares at her but she only smiles. “You know, I think he too, has his peace of mind, now that he was able to say it. Both to Mitsuhide and our lord Nobunaga. Did it not feel good to you too? To say goodbye?”

There is something transparently menacing in Nene as she slowly upturns her hand one more time, so the sleeves would show the best. The wives he knew were particular: they did not only want power and glory like their husbands but never missed to pay attention to their surroundings either.

“But that is exactly what you were afraid of, isn’t that right?” Nene asks. “That it would be the last time, no matter what you are doing or saying. You think it is better to stay away on what seems to be your own volition than being cruelly sent away and rejected.”

Nene was not entirely wrong. It is a mixture of being afraid of his continuing failures, his pride… the fact that he is a coward, no matter how much he is trying to hide it. However, Nene sees right through him. With the selfish husband she was cursed with, it is not too surprising she would immediately understand how Roltes worked.

“You know, you should know the best that from almost all mistakes, there is still a way back. You and my lord husband both have a first-hand experience of life’s greatest mercies.”

But it wasn’t life that had mercy on him. It was the lord Nobunaga. His thoughts are probably written on his face because Nene softly caresses the cross hung around his neck, a finger circling around the hole left by the bullet. It really was more than the lord Nobunaga who forgave him that day and washed him clean of his sins.

But Roltes also knows, no matter what, he needs to secure a place for himself in this world. Fate is never enough and it is whimsical - it will never favour us forever. If he does not stand up for himself nobody will.

“I intend to serve the lord Hideyoshi the same way I served our master.”

In this country, unless he follows a powerful  _daimyō_ , he is nothing. In the outside world, he is nothing anyway. He got tired of trying to reach for something that was never meant to be his.

“And I am sure that the lord Hideyoshi intends you to serve him the same way you did the lord Nobunaga, too.”

There is some sort of safety already in Nene’s words. Roltes has earned himself a name in this country, on Nobunaga’s side. He earned himself some sort of a fleeting reputation. Some of the Oda retainers even loved him. But without a _daimyō_ to serve, he became nothing. Again. If he was to leave Japan, he would be only a man with no name again. So he clung to the only scenario where he knew himself as a respected, full member of society.

He leaves the next morning (riding out at night would be foolish and maybe even an overreaction), but not before his own lord. Hideyoshi does not look any less tired than last night, and yet…

Katsuie is opposing him and he needs to put an end to it as soon as possible in order not to end up like Mitsuhide. Hopeless and beaten. Nothing.

“Now is the time to act, I cannot stay idle here,” he says. “I need to keep pushing forward.”

It is a phrase Roltes has heard countless times in his life already… When he looks at Hideyoshi, it is truly his master’s ambition that burns in his black eyes. And yet, what became a chore for the lord Nobunaga still tastes hopeful on Hideyoshi’s tongue. The man stares up at him and fleetingly touches his upper arm.

“You may join me on the battlefield, Roltes if you find that Kiyosu has become too tedious.” A bitter smile turns into a dark cackle on his lips. “Even though, I do not plan on fighting too much. I only want the rewards. You may help me find a wise way to do that.”

“But why my lord,” Roltes says, with a smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. “That is easy. You only need to have an intimidating size of troops your enemy cannot even dream about matching with.”

“Silence. I bet you never allowed yourself such tone with the lord Nobunaga.” Hideyoshi cannot really know of that, though. He sucks his lower lip in, but he is not entirely unamused.

Roltes bows his head low.

“I wish you luck on the battlefield.”

“Mm. And you too.” He turns away, ready to go. Then, he abruptly stops. “Roltes. How do they say ‘good luck’ in your language?”

None of them wants to go. They waste precious minutes, trying to make the pronunciation sound about right.

He rides to the gates of Kiyosu. He rides to the gates of Kiyosu and as he sees the imposing figure of the castle from below, courage suddenly leaves him. There is no space for failure in his life anymore and seeing Organtino would validate his fears: that the past nine years were a failure altogether, no matter how much he was trying to conceal it from himself. He rides to the gates of Kiyosu and then turns back.

Night falls by the time he arrives at Hideyoshi’s camp. Everyone is tipsy because they’ve been fighting for too long, for longer than they remember, and deep inside they never want to continue. They only want to stop and forget.

“Roltes! This isn’t Kiyosu. Did you lose your way?” Hideyoshi asks him in a mocking manner but with a playful smirk, when he recognizes his figure in the warm orange of the torchlights around their circle. All the retainers have their eyes on him and they all fall silent. It is only the cicadas they could hear around them.

“I changed my mind,” the man admits.

“You great fool. Even though I even wished you good luck.” He makes Roltes come with a lazy gesture and fills his platter full. “But it doesn’t matter: your regret is not mine.”

He pats the bench next to himself a few times where he wants Roltes to sit.

Something has changed since the lord Nobunaga died. It is not only that both of them miss him. No. Since Roltes was involved with Nobunaga, he has gotten used to working with Hideyoshi too. Both devoted to the same man, both upstarts in their own manner, they were treated the same way by the other Oda retainers. For the first time, however, Hideyoshi is above him.

Even though Roltes adjusted his words and manner of speech accordingly, the shift feels odd to both of them.

They weren’t on the best terms, they sometimes even looked at each other as sort of rivals when it came to Nobunaga’s affections. But they both were men with sweetened tongues who knew how to flatter and gain the approval of others. It is only that Hideyoshi now conquered him, and neither of them can fully comprehend what that means so far.

“It may be better for him,” Roltes says after many rounds of rice wine when it has all somewhat gone to his head already. “Not to disturb old, bitter memories.”

“I think it is better for _you_. I think you are afraid that he is not the man who you imagine him to be after all. You are afraid that those years changed him as much as they changed you. ... He used to ask about you, you know.”

He turns towards Hideyoshi so quickly, he almost knocks him over and the drink out of his hand. The man stares back into his eyes with a mixture of unknown intent and confusion.

“Organtino asked about me before?”

“When I would deal with the Jesuits in the lord Nobunaga’s name, yes.”

“You never told me.”

His lord seems intimidated for a second – but it may be that only the deep shadows of the night make it seem so. The honorifics were certainly missing.  He cackles, instead.

“It seemed like a tiny thing. And you kept running away, I figured…” But he is only finding excuses. “Would it have made a difference, Roltes? Does it make a difference now? Will you leave for Kiyosu castle immediately? Again?”

“No.”

“See?” He pinches Roltes’s side. It is not gentle but it is playful all the same. “That’s because you’re a coward. How do you say ‘coward’ in your language?”

Hideyoshi goes to sleep with the word on his lips. And he greets him like that the morning, first thing.

“Are you still here? I thought you would leave with the first light.”

“Does my lord not want me here? Does he want me somewhere else I wonder, or mayhaps he does not want me anywhere at all?”

“I want you at many places,” the lord Hideyoshi assures him. “I would want you on a battlefield too but you are dressed to reconcile with a friend and not for war. Go home, Roltes.”

“I can stay behind in the camp. My lord knows I am a good tactician, he might find my advice useful, in the long run.”

He is cheeky, in assuming that Hideyoshi is not good enough on his own, but the man is too tired to argue with him. Hideyoshi nods.   

“If that is what you want, I cannot stop you.”

“My lord, you would only need to order, if you wanted to stop me.”

Hideyoshi’s black eyes pierce him through for long seconds before he would choose to say anything.

“I said it before, Roltes. Your regret is not mine.” He looks down on the yellowing grass under their feet and then takes a deep breath. “Come. There is yet some time, if you have a better idea for taking Katsuie down, you may say it now.”

Roltes stays behind and waits for their return in the empty camp.

Hideyoshi starts constructing the Ōsaka castle. He needs somewhere that is new. That does not remind him of his old master. That is better, bigger, more lavish.

Roltes never learns whose doing it is: Nene, Hideyoshi? Probably the both of them, he resolves. They never tell him they would host the Jesuits for a while. It almost feels like a conspiracy: nobody is allowed to tell Roltes until it is too late.

When he sees Organtino’s face after ten years, it feels nothing more than a distant dream. He has already forgotten. There was only a greatly idealized, blurry picture in his head, of the blond curls and the puffy cheeks, the beady, dark brown eyes and the lips, all pursed up.

Organtino immediately turns his back to him in his first shock.

“Ah!” Hideyoshi exclaims but none of them really knows what that means. There is something uncomfortable in his voice. “It has been a long time, hasn’t it?”

He steps closer to Roltes, putting two fingers on his upper arm, lowering his voice. It is a simple gesture and yet the tone he uses makes it feel intimate and too close to caring.

“He is crying.”

“Organtino.” He steps behind him. “He is right. It’s been a long time. I’m…”

They use Japanese until suddenly Organtino shouts at him in their mother tongue so the others present in the room would not understand. A few minutes pass and he is sobbing in Roltes’s arms, his face pressed to the man’s chest. Hideyoshi closes the folding screen on them as he leaves the room. They keep eye contact until the last second, Roltes resting a hand on his friend’s back, but staring into Hideyoshi’s eyes.

For a very long time, neither of them says anything, with their backs to the wall, in this castle they both know too well. In this place Roltes kept avoiding.

“What sort of legitimacy would I have, forwarding the Lord’s word, if I said I couldn’t ever forgive you?” This is what Organtino answers when he asks. “Roltes. You were always like this.”

“Hideyoshi said you asked about me.”

“Did he also tell you that he told too, each time?” The quick turn of Roltes’s head already shows the answer, without needing to say a word.

Organtino chuckles. These ten years weren’t the kindest to him. The lines on his face got deeper and inevitably, age caught up with him. The Warring States isn’t kind to anyone. Not even unassuming monks, who only come here to lighten the hearts of the people. Yet, in his eyes, he is still the youthful child Roltes once used to know. Their fingers brush together.

“He told me everything. Of your achievements serving the lord Nobunaga… Of what excuse you used to leave each time. I found that amusing. He watched over you - for me, you know.”

Roltes only blinks. He never wanted this meeting for the same exact reason. Now he has to face the truth, the truth he always knew deep inside. That he hurt Organtino when he left him behind and he only kept hurting him more and more with each day, week, month, and year he refused to re-establish contact.

“Roltes…” Organtino closes his eyes and tries to suppress a tear. “Knowing that you’d been safe and well was enough for me.”

“I…” He cannot finish. There is nothing he could say.

There are no excuses for what he has done.

“Will you leave for the provinces next time?”

Will he? This is a question Roltes himself cannot find the answer to right now.

“I might… But I will be sure to leave a message with Hideyoshi.”

Organtino and his company stay for a few nights and they spend some time together. Hideyoshi insists that Roltes shows off what he has learned from their tea master, Sōeki, in their new, narrow tearoom. He accidentally burns his tongue that time and it keeps hurting, even after Organtino is long gone.

“I always wondered what sort of man Nobunaga made out of you,” the monk admits, circling his finger around the broken cup. “I always wondered how the cross looked around your neck. And what it meant when Hideyoshi said that bearing your beloved honour made you look even more handsome.”

“If Hideyoshi said it, it probably meant nothing.”

“You think so?”

Roltes lowers his voice so they cannot be overheard. There is undoubtedly a bitter edge to what he says.

“I know so.”

They laugh, until Organtino starts crying again.

“It is not always late for a reconciliation,” Nene tells him a few days after the Jesuits leave. “Surely, your heart has calmed itself now.”

But it is not true. There was no reconciliation. Nothing happened, apart from Roltes facing his biggest fear. Realizing that no matter how much he tried to avoid it, he kept making all those old mistakes on Nobunaga’s side. And in the process, he has broken something precious that he and Organtino used to share.  

There is nobody else to blame.

“At least your Jesuit seemed contented,” Hideyoshi thinks.

“I don’t think he could so easily forgive me,” Roltes resolves to answer, even though that is not exactly what he thinks.

Hideyoshi laughs.

“I do not think _you_ can so easily forgive yourself. That is all.” He runs a hand down on his back as he passes by him. “It seems to me you do not want to forgive yourself, Roltes. Why? Maybe you mourn the years past? Maybe you truly think that you have inevitably become too foreign and he remained the same?”

There is truth to Hideyoshi’s words but there is something else too. Roltes looks down at him for a while, trying to see under the curls, behind the black gaze.

“My lord Hideyoshi forgot to tell me that when Organtino asked about me, he would also answer him.”

He smiles, but there is something unsettling in it.

“That’s just a tiny thing,” he says again. “He asked me. And when you left, Roltes, you never told any of us that you would require silence.”

Roltes understands. It might have been the lord Hideyoshi and Nobunaga’s way of punishing him for his foolish choices. Or that they thought that the answer would make his friend happier than the pregnant silence. At least Organtino knew he was alive, this way. At least the Oda retainers kept Roltes alive for him.

But who kept Organtino alive for Roltes?

“If you ever asked, I would have told you how he fared.” It almost sounds like an accusation. In suddenly found anger, he grabs his wrist before he could slip away, which is too skinny under his grip. If it was any other retainer, if it was not a foreigner, he would probably get himself in trouble with just this. “But then the lord Nobunaga and I figured that you liked suffering.”

Nene only mutely stares at them. She probably understands the offence more than her husband, effortlessly slipping out of the grip, and leaving the room. If that was Nobunaga, he probably would not have survived it with such ease. And again, if this was the lord Nobunaga, Roltes probably wouldn’t have tried to begin with.

“Your husband sure acts oddly for someone who keeps saying that my regret is not his,” Roltes tells her but there are no grudges in his voice. Only some sort of pain.

“My husband was bid by his lord that time to make sure that the lord Nobunaga lost their bet.” Nene gives him a knowing look. She still scares Roltes sometimes because there is that alien intent in her, something greater than in any of the men he had encountered before. “If he seems so desperate, it is to please him.”

He finds Hideyoshi in the tea room with Sōeki.

“Roltes!” Hideyoshi snaps back at his place and points at the kettle. “It has almost boiled. You are joining?”

Roltes looks at Sōeki’s tired face. Surely it has been over a year but he is still getting used to serving his new lord: Hideyoshi had different artistic pursuits than his previous master. He liked glitter and gold. Everything that Sōeki loathed.

“I… Have the Jesuits returned to the Capital, my lord?”

“Your one certainly has.”

“Then, I am off.”

Hideyoshi breaks his neck, pleasing his deceased master, so the only thing Roltes could do out of his sense of duty is also breaking his neck… trying to please both of his masters.

“Roltes! I swear, I see you more the past week than I’ve seen you in ten years,” Organtino scolds him, but his cheeks pod up in his unconcealed happiness.

He stays in the Capital for a week. Organtino tells him that the Hashiba colours fit him better than the old, western clothes he used to wear.

“You are his man, Roltes. I am proud of you.” They walk around on the grounds of the Christian temple, arms linked. They were always an odd pair, even in school, Roltes thinks - but if it is possible they only became even more ill-fitting. “You finally found something you can believe in and stand up for. I cannot ask for more.”

“Aren’t you sad I am not joining the Jesuits, how you’d planned the future out for me?”

“Oh, no.” He softly bumps into his friend. “You would make an appalling Jesuit.”

That is true. Roltes somehow makes a much more convincing warrior. It is funny when such things happen. A foreigner to his own culture, a foreigner in this country. And yet, this world welcomes him with much greater integrity than his birthplace ever did. Here, they give him a name and some reputation. Nobunaga kept him well and Hideyoshi keeps him even better. If someone asked him whether he was happy, after all?

…

He would probably regrettably need to say yes.

Organtino hands him some old, European _maiolica_ before he would leave for home.

“Give these to your lord Hideyoshi, he’s been craving them for long now,” Organtino says. “I always found some excuse to keep them from him but…”

“You don’t have to give him everything he wants, you know.”

Organtino laughs as he places the set in a wooden box, covering them with old cloths for protection. Roltes knows that this is Organtino’s personal collection, something from home. It is not truly beautiful or outstanding, but the foreignness of it surely attracts Hideyoshi. He may not know that these could very well be the last things that remind Organtino of his birthplace.

“He gets his hand on everything he wants, sooner or later.”

Organtino says this with warm resignation, without any antagonism. He sometimes gives too much of what he has, he always has been like that. There was never an instance he would not give anything to Roltes he wanted, even if it greatly inconvenienced him, in the end.

Roltes knew this and he used it relentlessly before. He used to be a disgusting type of friend, he knows this now. Whenever he could, he wronged Organtino and it is hard to come to terms with that.

It is oftentimes that Roltes would make a big mistake… And some mistakes cannot be undone anymore.

He holds Organtino close behind closed doors in the barbarian temple before he would go home to Hideyoshi, resting his chin on the man’s head.

“I will see you in ten years,” his friend laughs but there is underlying pain in his voice.

“You will see me earlier than that.”

He should not make promises he might be unable to keep, he knows that.

Hideyoshi sometimes resembles a child, when he is happy. Excitement washes over him as he digs deep into the box Organtino sent to him.

“Sōeki!” he exclaims immediately. “Look here!”

Sōeki seems to be the most underwhelmed as his master thrusts the plates on him, one by one, to have a good close look at them.

“I was yearning for them for so long. We will put them to good use, won’t we, Sōeki. Maybe at the tea room.”

“This is not something…” One look from Hideyoshi freezes the rest of the sentence on the tea master’s throat. He bows his head. “I will find a way to put them to good use, without doubt, my lord.”

After he leaves, Hideyoshi gives a look to Roltes, head tilted to the side.

“How do you convince your Jesuit to let you give it to me in a week, when I’ve been trying for years, I wonder,” he muses, but there is a wicked smile on his lips, which already tells of the answer he cooked up.

Hideyoshi thinks it was him who tried to make his lord’s wishes come true? Roltes stares at him for a while, as the man is clutching one of the plates to his chest. Then, he nods a little.

“He gave it on his own volition. It did not need convincing.”

“Ah…” A bit more silence. “Well…”

He later finds him in the garden of the castle, lying in the shades with his sandals off and clothes half undone. In a way, he reminds him of the lord Nobunaga, now, (un)dressed as such. It is not often that he sees a Japanese man with curls as his. The hair might obstruct his view a lot, Roltes always thinks. But it makes him unique.

“I am intruding, my lord,” he apologizes. “It is not often that you have free time at the castle since you keep fighting your battles and…”

“Silence, Roltes. You are not an inconvenience, and you are already here anyway. Sit down, instead.” Hideyoshi pats the healthy, green grass next to himself, beckoning him. “I have something to ask of you anyway.”

“My lord?”

He does as he is told. Hideyoshi covers his brows with one hand, as he would usually do when he was trying to rest.

“Why did you go to the Capital?”

Roltes stares up at the sky, obstructed by the thick leaves before answering him. He knows that Hideyoshi peeks from under his arm, too, but pretends to take no notice of it.

“I couldn’t let my lord lose to the lord Nobunaga, after all. It is my duty, I decided, not only to make his wish come true but to lead you to victory. As your retainer.”

Hideyoshi silently laughs, with only his shoulders shaking as the man finally looks down on him.

“That is very stupid,” he thinks. “Roltes, you are probably the strangest man I have encountered. You may have regained your name but you regrettably became selfless with devotion.”

“Is it not what the warrior codes tell us to…” Hideyoshi pulls him down on the ground by the arm, which disrupts his speech a bit, but the man tries again. “Is that not what the warrior codes tell us to be like, my lord?”

“The warrior codes are just sweet tales and a path to legitimacy… A tool. But you know that well. You always find something to hide behind, don’t you? I think you’re just a coward.”

Somehow he still remembers the word, intently poking Roltes in his side, until they hear something too much like a thunder in the distance. Suddenly the smile melts off of his master’s face.

“I have to go now,” he decides swiftly, especially upon seeing the grey clouds approaching the castle, behind the trees. “ _Nene_!”

Hideyoshi spends the rest of the afternoon in the castle, with many bottles of rice wine and occasionally in Nene’s arms. (She would often insist she has better things to do than to look after a useless, frightened husband, however.)

“I wonder what my lord husband does when a storm catches him during a campaign,” Nene complains, trying to peel his arms off of herself.

“Toshiie has strong arms.” Nene rolls her eyes and finally sets herself free. He shouts after her as she is leaving the room again with fast-paced steps. “It is alright, you horrible excuse of a wife! Worry not! I will have Sōeki hold me, then.”

Nene takes a good hard look at Roltes at the door. (Not for long though, afraid to be pursued by her husband again.)

“How can you respect this man so much, Roltes, after having seen him in this pitiful state for so many years? And no wifely duties chain you to him either. I am impressed. You should teach me one day.”

The rain hits the castle walls harder than Nene would ever hit her husband when he was misbehaving in front of important figures. (The lord Nobunaga.)

“Maybe _he_ should hold me, then! And Nene? Bring some rice cakes!” Hideyoshi yells at her but she does not even answer anymore.

He quietens down once she leaves the corridor and shrinks to an even smaller ball of a person than he usually is. Looking up at Roltes, who still stands by the folding screen, he speaks again.

“Do not ever dare to tell Matsu what I said about her husband.”

“My lord I do not think I have ever had a word with the lady Matsu before.”

Hideyoshi listens to how the wind breaks through the corridors and makes a low, hissing sound. He always thought that it was more of an act he put on, to entertain his surroundings than actual fear. And on top of that, it was one of the easiest ways to have himself held by the lady Nene for a while. But now, it is only the two of them.

“Maybe my lord should once experience a storm at sea – he surely would look at a storm on land as a blessing after that.”

Hideyoshi pours him some sake.

“Come here,” he orders. “I will go to sea once, you know. My mother told me so. I am the only son of my mother and father, you know. The real one. My father died early and he left me with no more than this body. But I am a product of love and not of political arrangements, which is another gift of his. The night I was conceived, blinding light flooded into the room….”

Roltes has heard this story countless times. Not this way, however. Somehow, the part about his real father never made it into the drunken stories. He edges closer to Roltes so he could press his arm onto his, leaning onto him. With his free hand, he gestures around the room.

“It was all filled with pure, white and golden light. It was a sign to my mother that the greatest man of this generation and maybe the next, and the next... was to be born to her. Well-respected over the ocean, who will once hold it all in his hands. Not just this country. No. The world. So I will have to go to sea, once, in pursuit of the entire world.”

Roltes always wondered if this story originated from his mother or it was Hideyoshi’s own creation, to gather enough divine legitimacy for himself. Nobunaga wanted the entire world once, too.

“The lights were there when I was born, too. My mother told me so. Bathed in golden glitter, emerging from hot flames like a phoenix and weeping, a small child, who more resembled a monkey than a human infant, was born and… he never stopped wailing since each time he hears a thunderbolt.” Hideyoshi cannot stop himself from laughing anymore, and accidentally pours the rest of his rice wine from the platter on both of them.

“My lord! And to think that I was about to believe you.” His lord wipes his hand on him.

“It is all true, Roltes – at least the lights,” he insists but there is mischief in his black eyes, which convince him otherwise. “It was the biggest miracle on this plane when I was born. You should be grateful that you share a lifetime with me.”

Roltes of course heard the gossip from other retainers. Hideyoshi’s old names, the stepfather he could never reconcile with, fleeing from the house he was born in. He served Imagawa Yoshimoto before he would submit to Nobunaga, looking for the sort of stardom only the great fool of Owari could grant him. He only became Hashiba Hideyoshi under him - before that, he used to be someone else. A different man. A replaceable man. An irrelevant man.

“I think… After all, my lord is a man with no name all the same.” Hideyoshi turns towards him with a blank expression.

“Do not ever say that again,” he commands. “And besides… If you wanted… I could grant you a name you liked. You only have to ask, you have already earned it long ago.”

But before Roltes could say anything in response, another thunder strikes and Hideyoshi practically jumps into his arms, with a small gasp on his lips.

Roltes calls him a coward in his mother tongue and he later wonders how he survives that excursion with barely more than a fleeting pinch. Then, Hideyoshi’s fingers mutely search for his hand and they sit in the gradually darkening room until the storm passes by them entirely.

A retainer finds them in the morning, with Hideyoshi peacefully drooling on his chest: but he cannot slide the folding screen back stealthily enough, and wakes Roltes.

“Why aren’t you trying to peel the realm out of my hands? Roltes?” He never asked this of him before. He never showed distrust or any doubt ever since that first time Roltes went to him.

But it is more than fair. It was no other man than Roltes who once tried to rob Nobunaga of all he used to have.

“You do not yet have the entire realm in your hands, my lord,” he reminds him but not without humour. They sometimes liked to have little spats like this.

“Silence. That is not an answer. You tried Nobunaga and he was further away from his ambition than I am now, do I need to remind you of that?”

But Roltes did not know Nobunaga back then. And… Nobunaga was a hard man to love. He was the most whimsical: generous in one second and murderous in the next. Hideyoshi made it much easier to love him. In fact, he made this into his very style: his retainers did not betray Nobunaga out of pure fear. The Hashiba retainers stayed loyal out of pure love, on the other hand. The two of them couldn’t be any less different and yet… still strikingly similar.

“I do not know what I would do with the realm, if I had it,” Roltes admits. “After the lord Nobunaga asked me to join him I realized… I might do better under someone who was worthy and ready to have me than striving for something I would not know what to do with.”

“You find me so worthy?”

“Otherwise I would be having this conversation with Akechi Mitsuhide.”

Hideyoshi’s eyes almost fall out of their sockets at first, but the next second, he is already laughing. Roltes almost implies that the only thing a warlord needs in this era is his support and they could reach for the _tenka_.

“I hear that my lord is trying to establish contact with Ashikaga Yoshiaki… Does he also crave the shogunal title, I wonder?” Roltes asks him later.

“The shogunal title? No. You saw what happened to the last _shōgun_. Only fools and tedious people would want to take up that title again. No. I want stardom… I will be an aristocrat instead.”

“My lord…”

Hideyoshi silences him with a quick finger before he could say anything more. My lord, you are not an aristocrat. My lord, the imperial line has lost its significance way before the _shōgun_ did. My lord, the Hashiba name would never be able to bear imperial titles…

Hideyoshi knows all this, of course.

Instead, he changes the topic.

“I invited the Jesuits for next week. Just in case you wanted to arrange for an escape route.”

“I am not planning to run away from my mistakes anymore, my lord.”

Even if Hideyoshi does not understand what exactly he means, he does not bother enough to ask about it.

Feeling safe among the Hashiba retainers, Organtino greets him with a hug. Unsure how to deal with the situation, Roltes receives it stiffly first, slowly melting into the embrace, awkwardly patting at the man’s back. When he catches Hideyoshi’s black eyes on the two of them, he cannot look away from him.

His lord arranged sake and _nō_ players for them, to entertain the Jesuits. They like coming here because no matter which lord it is, they always find something to make sure that the Jesuits are more than satisfied by the time they leave. (They like showing off, Nobunaga and Hideyoshi both.)

His lord sits in the first row. Roltes, on the side of the room, on his heels, with his friend assuming a comfortable position right next to him, arms slightly touching.

“Nene, come,” Hideyoshi beckons his wife, and to everyone’s surprise, takes her hand into his for most of the evening.

He also has food served on Organtino’s old _maiolica_ for all the guests present. A nice touch. Organtino smiles, when he looks at them: they are not supposed to be used this way, but at least the lord Hideyoshi makes good use of them. He might have peeled what Organtino loves the most out of his hands but he cherishes it… Treats it well and with love.

It hasn’t been an entire year that they last saw each other and yet it seems like the time they spent apart strained Organtino more.

They leave for the small central garden and talk sitting on the stairs until late in the evening, when dusk catches up with them, first glowing in pink and orange and then turning everything dark grey. They speak Italian.

“You have such a thick accent!” Organtino chuckles. “I did not have the heart to say the other time… You speak like a foreigner, Roltes.”

Truth to be told, Organtino had comrades to practice his mother tongue with. Roltes closed himself away and devoted himself to a new life, on the other hand. And on top of that, he may have become rusty and foreign-sounding in his native language, but Organtino still hasn’t mastered Japanese. Hideyoshi often mentioned how charming he found that. And Roltes, too.

“I think I will die in Japan.” Organtino spreads his legs on the stairs and stares up at the grey sky. “You know, I do not think I can leave anymore.”

He has his own plate with him and stares into it for a long while as if he was trying to find something. It once belonged to him and now it belongs to someone else.

Hideyoshi was right all that time ago. It is that Organtino stayed the same all this time, no more than a  bright-eyed foreigner and Roltes became different. Is he mourning this fact?

“I think you will die in Japan too, Roltes. You found a place next to Hideyoshi.”

“I…”

“It’s good. All your life, you’ve been looking for a place in someone else’s, haven’t you?”

Roltes always sleeps right next to the folding screen. A sort of safety, in these unknown times. And it seems like he is not wrong in doing so. It happens at the height of the night that the door moves next to him, and he is immediately up, snatching at the wrist of whoever is trying to sneak into his room.

Pulling them down, he sits up immediately, ready to fend for himself. His transition between asleep and awake is less than a heartbeat.

“What are you…”

“Ah!”

In the darkness of the room, he needs a few seconds to see whose face the waning moon slightly illuminates.

“…my lord?” It is not the first time he would have his lord Hideyoshi in his lap, he reminds himself of that. Despite that, he still holds his wrist down, making it hard for the man to move away. “Is something wrong?”

He would never have the lord Hideyoshi creep on him in the dark like this before.

“I thought you would be surely together with your Jesuit, this time. And I was always wondering… First I wanted to use my imagination - but I regrettably found it too hard to see it in front of me all by myself, so when that failed me, I thought I must take a peek with my own two eyes. To give myself a push. And curiosity got the better of me from there.”

...

It takes him a while to make meaning out of Hideyoshi’s words but even then, he firmly believes that he does not understand half of the message properly. His fingers slowly release him and they only stare at each other from barely an inch away.

“I am not spending the night with Organtino,” he announces the obvious. And then, he adds for clarity’s sake. “And I will not spend any of it with him, during the days ahead of us.”

What he feels he would not describe as uncomfortable or shameful… but he also cannot pin the exact word down at this moment. It should not be too odd. Hideyoshi would often act and talk similarly with others when he sees him: playful and bordering on inexplicable - but it is different when Roltes is the one who personally receives the treatment.

“Ah, is that so?” Without even looking behind himself, he slides the door shut with a swift and firm movement. “I see. I am truly left with only my imagination, then.”

“My lord is very creative, I am sure if he puts his mind to it, he could…” His lord’s lips ghosting over his silence him for a second. Before he would fully realize what is happening, the sensation is all gone. “… see for himself.”

Surely, Hideyoshi is positively the sort of person who would never be satisfied by only imagining things. Kneeling between Roltes’s open legs he towers above him (only by a few inches!) for the first time. He leans forward.

The night is by no means too warm by now. And yet, the other’s skin oozing hotness, lingering in this almost touch and the rice wine mixing with the faint smell of smoke and fire… Roltes has scarcely experienced sultriness as such.

“Roltes?” his lord asks in a low voice, pressing their noses together. His eyes are closed. He takes alarmingly deep breaths, his hands finding the sides of Roltes’s face. (At the very same time, Roltes has been keeping the same breath in for who knows how long.) “How do you say ‘I like you’ in your language?”

But before the man could even attempt to answer, Hideyoshi makes sure to bar the only way for him to even begin speaking.


	2. Chapter 2

His lord fits too well in his lap. He fits disturbingly well. He feels too comfortable, wrapping his legs around Roltes, playfully sliding his tongue across his lips. He feels disturbingly comfortable. Hearing that distinct, amused chuckle so close to his ear also sounds disturbingly natural. When Hideyoshi unties his hair, his locks bouncing down on his shoulder, tickling Roltes’s face it is almost as if he’d been spirited away. Hideyoshi’s earthy, smoky scent steals the stream of his consciousness, working itself into the very core of his being, his thoughts. 

He often thought Hideyoshi’s nickname was some sort of an exaggeration but he needs to be wronged again when despite his fragile, small frame, he flips themselves with impressive ease and agility. His flexibility is admirable. Roltes forgets: martial arts do not merely depend on one’s strength… As he strips Roltes - fingers quick, everywhere and nowhere at once, - the other’s complete silence and the awkward lack of reciprocation prompts a knowing cackle from him. For long seconds he stops, with his hands gripping on Roltes’s naked shoulders, pressing his forehead to his.

“I should not be surprised,” he says under his breath then, after a while. 

It is unknown what exactly goes through his head but he slowly slips Roltes back into his sleeves, keeping the fabric together at his chest with a warm hand. A second later, Roltes realizes that it is not a simple touch: he is covering the cross around his neck. He does not bother dressing, even though his garments are also off half a shoulder, his hair sprawled across the cushion. It feels like he suddenly wants to flee, - for a reason just as unknown as to why he even appeared in Roltes’s room so deep in the night. 

“It seems like when you said you would not sleep with your Jesuit,” he says in a peculiarly toneless voice, explaining himself, “I regrettably took your rejection for an invitation. You have no taste for men.” 

Roltes did not take Hideyoshi for a man who cared about whether others had taste for him or no. One way or another - Organtino was right - he would always get what he wished for, no matter the lengths he had to go for them. Hideyoshi was exactly the sort of man who would cheat, charm, lie and at last force himself into someone else’s undergarments if needed, no matter how unattractive they found him to begin with. At least that is what his reputation told Roltes.  

He cannot properly see him in the darkness, the scarce light from the outside only gleams in his black eyes, staring at him, beckoning him and at the same time, begging him for release. 

The last time he was kissed this way - unexpected and uninvited - was in Goa. The woman was overwhelming, beautiful, and felt too secure in her own success. And fair enough as well, for if it was anyone else from their group they chose to stand guard that night none of them would be alive anymore. This way, they finished a job without any distractions or casualties. (The woman too, survived the affair, however she spent the rest of the night unconscious.) 

The first time it happened? A Catholic boarding school was the hotbed of the oddest activities and Roltes was not free from the excursions one could take when embarking on such a route. Moreover, he knows that Organtino too, had his own share of stories but they never made the effort to share them with one another. He was too disinterested and confused. Organtino was too ashamed.

A lot of people may have called Roltes ‘handsome’ in his time but they often called his friend ‘beautiful’ for when young and green he had the face of a comely maiden even more so - and this was favoured by men and women of all sorts of age and social standing. Roltes always found this intriguing, while Organtino was the most scared of it. He still wonders, to this day, whether he never wanted to kiss Organtino because of the shame and fear he witnessed in his eyes when he unknowingly - and unnoticed - walked on this one particular scene.  A scene he was never able to fully forget ever since then. 

Roltes was always baffled, when it happened to him, of course. Baffled is not the exact right word. At loss, instead. Never consciously considering himself as a plausible choice, he was always surprised when others did so. What for? To begin with. 

He forgets that Hideyoshi exists under him for a moment.

“Roltes…” A hand tries to push him up, his lord attempting to probably leave the scene. Or at least to wake him up from his musings. He is successful, only because Roltes is still trapped somewhere in his thoughts, almost making his way to the sliding door on his knees, clothes and hair undone. He could be fleeing, by the looks of it.  “Have some rest.”

He would wait until the moment is gone - again. It is a peculiar thing that all his life he had been so active to restore something as abstract as ‘honour’ that was ripped from his name and yet was completely frozen when it came to matters of the flesh. He would sit there on the cushion (now he has turned), with a hand on his cross where Hideyoshi’s hand used to be and his eyes on his lord, watching him leave. In the very last second, Roltes grabs his wrist before he could pull the screen open. 

He does not do anything else. He does not say anything. He does not pull him any closer. He simply stops him. 

“What?” Hideyoshi asks. Parts of him are confused, parts of him demanding. 

Roltes tries to remember how he used to be before he submitted himself to the lord Nobunaga’s rule and allowed another mask to replace the man with no name. There was a distinct, smuggish tone he liked to use, in order to cover for all his insecurities. The man with no name was a mere invention, a creature of circumstances, and he often acted that way, against his very own nature. 

“The retreating warlord,” he says but it sounds odd on his tongue after all these years. “What a sad sight.” 

What he wants to say instead is: this is unlike you. Despite the darkness, he can see the flash in Hideyoshi’s eyes, a warning sign. Now, he might have gone too far even in the eyes of the more lenient lord of his. 

“Watch your mouth, now.” 

He slides closer to him on his knees. In fact, he slides uncomfortably close - the same way he used to whisper in his ear about wrapping his fingers around Nobunaga’s ambition and tearing it out of his chest mercilessly, making the dream his, and only his. 

“I apologize, my lord,” he whispers. Their noses almost touch. “If my words offended you.” 

He may not be the most experienced but Roltes is smart and he still learns quick. It is no mystery for him to an extent what Hideyoshi likes anymore. He ghosts his lips on his, just as Hideyoshi did to him not so long ago, cupping his face in his hands. His lord snatches at him as if he was not only waiting for him for longer than an eternity, but with an insatiable desire. He wasn’t kissed many times in his life, to begin with, but surely, he’s never been kissed this way until now. 

 

They do not sleep the entire night. 

This has happened to him once already in different circumstances but with the very same feeling cornering him. If this chance is gone, he loses his grip on it entirely. If he does not make a move now, he will never make a move ever again. So in confused despair, he pursued it. And now he is here. 

“I conquered Europe!” Hideyoshi boasts to him later, dragging the thread of the necklace around his neck. 

“My lord, you forget that at most you could have only conquered Italy, where I hail from,” Roltes corrects him, even though he knows there is no use. “That is, if I was not still dishonoured across the seas.” 

“That’s just a tiny thing. I conquered Europe,” his lord repeats again, now with a bit more emphasis on the words, completely disregarding his argument. Of course, he would not give Europe up for any sort of insignificant little detail like that. 

It is cold enough to huddle up for warmth, even though they have all those warm cloths from overseas that make the night even warmer. Hideyoshi plays with his tangled hair, curling it behind his ear. 

“ _ Congratulations _ .” This comes with a tired sigh, as Roltes realizes that he could never convince his lord of being wrong. 

“However, you did not conquer Japan… It does not work that way,” his lord tells him quickly. “Before you’d get the wrong idea.” 

“Why, surely, my lord. Given that you do not yet actually ha…” 

Hideyoshi hits him before he could even attempt to finish. 

“And what does this say about you as my retainer?” he asks but there is only playfulness in his voice, so close to him that his breath warms Roltes’s earlobe. “Even though you yourself promised me all that time ago to hold it all in my hands with your assistance.” 

It feels oddly good like this, he tells himself again. Close. More comfortable than he would have imagined. Warm. Mirthful. Like fine wine. 

If fine wine could kiss well. 

This is not likely to ever happen between them again, the man concludes. Hideyoshi is not that sort of sentimental man who would return to him once he had achieved whatever goal he set for himself and he is not the sort of man who would pursue physical pleasures of this kind. Especially not from someone who has already gotten bored of him once before. His lord had not much true sentimentality for people (only lust and fleeting interest for the exotic and curious): all that was left with him probably died with the lord Nobunaga… Or was already used on the tea master. Surely, he had no sentiments left to spare on countrymen of barbarian fields like Roltes. 

Therefore, this was once in a lifetime, Roltes tells himself. Which is probably why he felt the need to pursue it so desperately, to begin with, while it was still possible. He fleetingly wonders if he made another mistake, again. (Thankfully, Hideyoshi is skilled at not letting him think for too long at a time.)

“Tonight is particularly quiet,” he tells Roltes, breaking the setting silence between them. “Some would compose a verse.”

He claims to know what this means but decides not to let himself believe. The only thing composing a verse tonight will be Hideyoshi’s tongue, using the man’s neck as a scroll to write out a message on.  His lord giggles a lot: he was never the sort of man who would not allow himself a good time when it came to amusements. He may need to present more seriously in front of people who aren’t his close retainers now but he remained the same person beneath the court robes. The same person whose path Roltes traced for more than ten years. A playful, quick child with a tiny waist and a body so light he could barely feel him climbing on top of him. They keep wrestling, mindlessly and breathlessly for a while, until there is a creak at the sliding door and a familiar voice, whispering.

“Roltes!” 

Unlike Hideyoshi, his friend arrives with a candle in his hand. Roltes is already at the door, trying to prevent it from opening any wider. From the corner of his eye, he can see his lord pressing a hand to his own mouth in amusement, attempting to muffle his laughter. Roltes wonders what he might be thinking right now. What could be so enjoyable for him in this situation. 

“Organtino! What are you doing here?” He deliberately chooses to speak to him in Japanese: that way, his lord would understand everything and he would not feel like concealing anything from him.

He would not feel like lying to him. Deceiving him. 

And besides, he is more than baffled over the sudden appearance of Organtino around here too. 

“Oh…” Organtino cannot help but notice his bare chest. His eyes are fixated on the cross. “Were you asleep maybe?”

Clearly, this is not what he is meaning to ask and yet, the real question would not leave his mouth. He looks behind Roltes anyway, somewhat transparently. Hideyoshi, is, of course, nowhere to be seen. He is no match for a simple Jesuit and has already assumed a place on Roltes’s side that could not be seen from the position where Organtino is kneeling at the door. 

The Jesuit tries to move a bit forward but Roltes is already at the door, practically barring the entrance from him. Somewhere, on his side, Hideyoshi mercilessly starts playing with his hand, biding his time. Whatever happens, it does not concern him. Their fingers entwine. Roltes almost mindlessly starts squeezing on them in a manner that is probably frighteningly familiar and uncalled for. 

“Did you want something?”

“I… Can I come in?” 

Roltes could theoretically say yes, he knows that. His lord could disappear in a mere second before Organtino would ever realize he was there in the first place (if he wanted). It would probably also mean that he leaves for good, then. If Hideyoshi is gone now it means that he slips away forever. Roltes is unsure whether he would mourn this fact. 

“I cannot sleep tonight and I thought I might still find you awake,” Organtino tries again when he hears no straight answer from his friend. “I know you often have trouble, sleeping.” 

As he squeezes his lord’s hand, he cannot help but feel like betraying Organtino with all this. Surely, he has no such duty towards the Jesuit, the two of them only being friends as far as anyone understands. And it is clear, why it is better for all three of them that he would rather hide the fact that he is having Hideyoshi on his floor tonight. Yet, he should not feel the need to conceal anything from Organtino. Not for the reasons they are hiding from him right now. 

“The stars are very beautiful tonight.” Organtino is used to the silence on his friend’s side so probably he does not register this as a warning sign. 

He often carries on until he can seduce an answer out of him with his persistence, even if it is just a mere “hm.” Right now he is presenting Roltes with the choice of going out to watch the night sky with him or to keep kissing his lord until morning comes.

“Organtino, I…” 

Thankfully, he never gets to finish. Thankfully, once again, someone else will make the choice for him. A retainer appears at the corridor and calls for him.

“Brother Organtino! They’ve been looking for you! On the request of your comrades, the actors are putting on a little act, in honour of the Jesuits… We were wondering if you’d like to come and join us.”

Organtino is not so sure.

“Go,” Roltes begs him. “If the play itself is not written by the lord Hideyoshi, it might even be a worthy experience.”

Organtino does not find this as funny (and the person very strongly pinching his hand also does not seem to find this comment remotely funny) as Roltes intended it to be, cackling to himself. He almost hisses in pain.

“Are you joining us too?” he tries for one last time. 

“I should be better off sleeping.” His friend gives him a last, understanding nod. He knows that he is hurt… Deep inside, he already knew someone was going to get hurt when Organtino’s face popped into his room. “Enjoy the performance, Organtino.”

 

As soon as the sliding door closes, Hideyoshi is already on him, devouring his mouth as if he was made to wait an entire lifetime to continue having him. He does this with such zealousness, he almost knocks the man over. Roltes never experienced this sort of power he may have over others before - and he would be lying if it did not interest him, even if only on a superficial level. Men could become extremely vulnerable, they could become extremely impatient and desperate, waiting on him. Resting a hand on Roltes’s hip he stops for a second and gives him a pointed look.

“My plays are excellent,” he bickers, biting at his lower lip.

“All of my lord’s plays are about himself.”  

Roltes never realized that being physically close to someone also made one considerably more cheeky. (He wonders if it was a normal occurrence and that all his retainers would develop a bolder tongue upon faced with their lord naked and drunk on his kisses.)

“Yes? And what’s wrong with that? They are true. All about my heroic deeds. I shall have the people know that they chose the most adept man to bring them peace.” He draws circles on Roltes’s chest. His plays were sort of bad, really. “You are only jealous because none of them includes you. But at any rate… For a second there I was sure you would invite your Jesuit to join us.” 

The world would have probably ended if Roltes tried to do any of the sorts. He cannot imagine a scenario where this request would not end in his friend’s shame, outrage, or utter disappointment. Organtino tolerated a handful of things of his - and other people - and more, but tempting him into such sins would probably not lie well with him, Roltes resolves. 

“I do not think Organtino would have liked that.” 

Would have Hideyoshi wanted that, on the other hand? Roltes must start wondering, after hearing him speak that way about Organtino. He does not know what to do with this thought.

“Then, you are wrong. He was wistful. He wanted to be invited in.”

But Hideyoshi is wrong, Roltes knows, when he is making this conclusion. Surely, his friend wanted to be invited into the room but not for the reason Hideyoshi imagines for himself now. He knows Organtino more than he knows his own life. If Hideyoshi had his friend figured out this easily, with more precision than Roltes himself, what would it tell about him? What would it say about what sort of a friend he was all this time? 

“Would my lord have liked it, I wonder?”

Hideyoshi throws his arms around his neck.

“You could give it or take it.”

 

The night seems to never end and they later find themselves outside in the central garden, staring at the night sky. They both look less than presentable, with their night garments lazily thrown on them, the belts hardly fastened properly. It is chilly outside but despite their naked feet freezing from the cold, they cannot otherwise feel the difference. His lord’s skin is still oozing hot next to him. 

“It really is worthy of a verse,” Hideyoshi thinks, although he does not even properly look at the scenery. Apart from plays, he is also appalling at verses, Roltes thinks. He is fond of his master but there are some truths even affections cannot conceal. 

They are in a vulnerable position and if anyone was awake in the castle, or passed through these parts, they could easily find themselves exposed. Surely, it is no matter of serious gossip when the lord Hideyoshi claims a lover… Unless maybe if it is his favourite barbarian, of course. 

They never sleep, trapped in the garden as the morning sky first gradually turns grey and then tinted with blue. Hideyoshi’s feet cautiously touches the grass, dusted with dew. The robe falls off half of his shoulder, exposing his dark, bony shoulder. Roltes does not fight the urge to touch the sun-kissed skin. 

“Transient, like the morning glory,” his lord thinks out loud with a sigh at the very same time. “Come back with me. Roltes.” 

They are well finished by the time the morning glories would start withering away in the morning - and Hideyoshi leaves his room before majority of the castle’s inhabitants would begin their day. If he is tired, he does not show it when he slides the door closed on him with that iconic, youthful smile of his, teeth showing. Hideyoshi calls him a coward in his own mother tongue for continuity’s sake. 

He never gets to teach him the words he requested, however. Partially because he cannot seem to be able to say them himself - and he suspects that probably his lord is not too keen on learning them either, after all. 


End file.
